Someone from the past

Rain is pouring down outside. My arms lay across the counter, and with my head resting over them, I watch outside the glass panels at the strangers hurrying up and down the street under their umbrellas. On dark and rainy days like this, it can get overwhelmingly lonely at my hair salon.

As I sit waiting hopefully, a bright red umbrella comes waddling down, and from underneath it appears a familiar face: she’s the small old lady with her beautiful blue eyes and tidily kept white hair. Upon entering my salon, she places her umbrella in the corner, turns, and greets me with an innocent smile. I stand up, glad I have company.

“Tea?” I offer.

“You’re too kind, dear!” she replies with delight.

We sit there sipping at herbal tea for a while, listening to the raindrops pattering onto the slab. Then I gesture for her to have a seat in front of the mirror, and she hurries up.

“A long bob, dear,” she requests, “Can’t say how much I’m in love with this style!”

I smile and have a look once again at the nicely proportioned lob she already has. It hasn’t even been three days since I did it for her. But she keeps coming back every three or four days, totally unaware that her hair hasn’t grown an inch.

I grab a handful of hair clips from the drawer. Holding up sections of her soft hair, I put the hair clips on.

“Were there more customers this morning?” the old lady’s soft voice asks.

“There was one actually,” I answer, looking up, “it’s usually not very busy on rainy days.”

“Oh, what do you do you do when you have got free time at hand?”

“Well, I read fashion magazines,” I say, running a comb through her hair, “or just sit looking at the rain falling.”

I’ve started working my scissors carefully along the line of her hair. I must be careful not to cut too much, so that there’s enough left for next time too. Hair grows back surprisingly fast, though, and there’s always something for me to take care of.

“But don’t you get bored, darling?” she asks, looking a bit worried.

“Oh no, not at all! A day's worth it as long as there’s at least one customer.”

Her reflection in the mirror smiles at me. “That means you’ve found a career that truly inspires you!”

Silence follows the next fifteen minutes or so. I’ve worked my way all over to the top layer of her long bob. Now, I grab a straightener from the top of the desk. Having done this specific hairstyle for her almost every three days, not to count all the other bob-lovers, I’m so much used to this algorithm.

“Back in the day, I used to be a concert pianist myself,” her soft voice breaks the silence.

“Wow, that should’ve been really cool!” I remark.

“Oh yes, dear!” her face lights up, “I used to travel a lot, playing for operas and orchestras. I’ve been to Japan, America, Poland, and many more.”

There’s a small pause.

“I met my husband in Japan while working on one of my albums. After we married and moved here, I resigned from my career to tend to our little daughter.”

A hint of empathy pops up somewhere inside me. But I just keep on with my job, using the point-cutting method now to refine her hair. The old lady sits motionless yet very aware of what I’m doing.

“Day by day, she slowly grew up next to me, my little girl! I even tried teaching her to play the piano at one point,” she remarks with a chuckle, “But I soon realised she was a more practical, down-to-earth child.”

There’s a watery glint in her eyes now; I see it in the mirror.

“She made me and Haruki proud. Once she graduated from high school, she moved to the city to attend a vocational school,” she continues, “I haven’t seen her lovely face for a long time.”

The old lady falls silent. I notice a shadow taking over her wrinkled face.

“I’m very sure she misses you as much as you do,” I comfort her.

“Oh, I believe she does, darling,” she replies kindly, “After all, her life’s just started, and she has a lot to catch up with. Well, I’m sorry for boring you with all that nostalgia.”

I smile.

The tip-tap of the raindrops hitting the ceiling has slowly come to a stop. The faces of the people are peeking out from their umbrellas to greet the welcomingly warm sunshine, which has just landed.

With a bit of texture spray and cross-checking, I’ve also finished my job. With a smile on my face, I watch the old lady as she briskly gathers her stuff. One more look at herself in the mirror, seemingly delighted, and then she walks over to me. Her hand digs into her wallet. I really don’t like making her pay for a haircut that isn’t even going to last very long. But she isn’t happy until she sees the notes disappearing into my drawer.

She thanks me one last time before vanishing into the day outside. I watch her walking away, almost like a dove’s feather blowing in the wind. Inside my heart, I feel a deep sense of warmth. Inside her memories, the sweet person she used to be is still there; she just doesn't remember. At the end of every month, I put all the money she’s paid me during that time, and also some more for her expenses, back in her bank account.

I fall back into my chair. I am a bit ashamed I forgot to remind her, but I smile nevertheless as I see the bright red umbrella still sitting in the corner, where she left it. I’ll make sure to give it back to her next time. As I watch the drops of water dripping down the umbrella onto the floor, my mind wanders back to the time I spent with her back then.